Chapter 5 A Falsified Peacemaker

Roman

As the carriage finally slowed, my chest tightened. Nothing good has ever come out of Harrowmere.

Evelia perched on the edge of her seat, fingers gripping the carriage frame as she stared through the small window. Disbelief hollowed her features.

Triple the size of Valemor. Ten times more lethal. An eeriness clung to the grounds thicker than the fog shrouding it. It slid across the skin like leeches preparing to bite, patient and hungry. Even the forest held its breath at the property line. No insects hummed. No wind stirred.

It was upon seeing it that Evelia questioned her future. Her feet refused to touch the gravel when the carriage door opened, so I took her arm to pull her down. There was no turning back.

Her pulse thrashed wildly beneath my fingers as I guided her forward. The path curved up toward the estate, slate steps slick with moisture. She stumbled once, but I didn’t slow.

There was no second thought as we reached the massive oak doors. They towered above us, iron-banded and scarred. The knocker sat at eye level. Blackened iron shaped into a sorrowful face, neither man nor woman. Refined features, except for the faint ridges carved beneath its hollowed eyes like tracks of dried tears. A ring pierced through its parted lips.

The metal was cold to the touch as if questioning me if this is what I wanted. Pushing the uneasy feeling aside, I lifted the ring and brought it down heavily. The strike reverberated through the wood, through the stone, through the forest itself. It rang outward like a summons or a warning. A sound loud enough to wake the dead.

Silence followed. Long. Deliberate.

Evelia’s breathing turned shallow beside me. I could feel the tremor traveling through her bones. She nearly jumped when the doors parted inward. It felt as if walking into the lion’s den. Once fully inside, the door slammed shut behind us, a well trained maid waited to our left in anticipation of collecting our things, but I wasn’t staying.

“Roman,” Judas chimed as he stood at the far end of the entry hall, framed by a grand staircase that split and curled upward like the horns of something demonic. He wore black, as always, tailored and crisp.

He looked unchanged. Dark hair swept back from a face too symmetrical to be entirely human and golden eyes that gave him an angelic appearance. 

He descended the first few steps slowly, not out of caution, but for effect. “You’ve come sooner than I anticipated,” he continued, gaze sliding past me and landing on Evelia.

It was not a glance. It was an inventory.

Evelia shrank beneath it, though she tried not to.

“Ah,” Judas said softly. “And you’ve brought me something beautiful.”

My jaw tightened, because I knew what he was thinking. Beauty meant top dollar.

“As promised,” I replied evenly.

Judas smiled as he slowly approached us. She was then passed from me to him, who held his hand out for her to take. There was no denying the shake to her fingers as she placed her hand in his. The warmth of her skin made his smile grow, “beautiful indeed.”

Lifting her arm high above her head, he twirled her around, her dress flared out around her slender body. “My dear, head upstairs and make yourself at home.” A servant quickly whisked in to take her away. Judas eagerly hollered after her, “whatever you want just let the maids know and I will make sure you get it.”

The illusion of luxury was at her fingertips, but she didn’t realize that in five days everything, including that pale blue dress of hers will be stripped away and she’ll be auctioned off like cattle to a wealthy vampire.

After watching her disappear, Judas turned to me with a slick smirk on his face, “this year might be the year for Spring River. If I were keeping track,” he always kept track, “Spring River hasn’t breached the top ten most profitable towns nor produced a vampire…well…ever.”

“I really don’t give a shit about your little competitions.” I spat in disgust. Judas not only gambled with money, but with lives. He made a name for himself as a broker. A falsified peacemaker.

“Don’t look so glum, Roman. Is this you taking the moral high ground? If I recall, back in the day you participated. You purchased…what was her name?” He crossed his arm over his chest while his other hand rubbed at his chin. “It’s right at the tip of my tongue. Very pretty, but troublesome. Josephine. Joellen.”

“Johanna,” her name crept up my throat like stomach acid, burning the entire way.

Johanna was her first name, her original soul. Then she was Genevieve, then it was Madeleine, then Koralie, and the last incarnation of her was Odessa. And now there’s Elodie.

It was Johanna that started the curse. Elodie looked very similar to her. Wavy dark hair that was always messy from working, deep brown eyes that seemed to look right into your soul, full lips and dimples in both cheeks. She was the daughter of a blacksmith, as her father’s only child she was taught how to wield fire and metal. It may have been that unbiased treatment that gave her her undying willpower to live.

She was among the first to be chosen, the treaty was still fresh enough to make those naive in believing that it was for the betterment of their village. She came from Fallen Meadows, chosen by some other vampire, but it was I that chose her when Judas sold her off. Just as Evelia will be.

The memory threatened to drag me under as it surfaced. The girls entered the quarters in a line. White dresses. Bare shoulders. Eyes trained downward. Judas enjoyed presentation. I sat three rows back, merely curious. One by one, the girls stepped forward at the call of their names. Then came the inspection. Teeth, untouched skin, the strength of their pulse. Vampires murmured over bone structure and bloodlines like merchants assessing livestock.

But I felt bored. Until…“Johanna Blackwell.”

The name meant nothing, but the girl who stepped forward and lifted her head did.

Her dark hair had been hastily pinned and was already slipping loose. Her eyes never lowered. She looked out into the crowd as if daring someone to choose her. A ‘fuck around and find out’ attitude emitted from her.

A murmur rippled through the hall. Judas smiled faintly from the stage as if he knew this one would warrant inquisition. “She requires persuasion,” Judas said mildly, as if discussing the weather. “Spirit can be…corrected.”

The bidding began. Numbers were called lazily at first. Modest interest. A few vampires liked difficult things. But I didn’t move. I told myself I was observing. That curiosity didn’t equate to want. I didn’t like stubborn things, but there was something about her I couldn’t shake, so without putting thought to action, my paddle raised.

The price continued to climb. Johanna’s breathing grew shallow, but her gaze never broke. She knew what was coming. That she was going home with someone ungodly. Everytime my paddle flicked up, her eyes zeroed in on me. 

Then one of Judas’s oldest allies raised his paddle and the room became electrified. Alistair did not collect. He destroyed.

Bids leapt sharply now. Now everyone saw something in her. The price soared beyond reason and Judas’s smile widened. Finally, the other bidders relented with a shrug, disinterested in paying that much for defiance. And I wasn’t going to lose her to him.

Finally Judas slammed his gavel down, one firm strike as he declared, “sold,” to the room. “To Roman Devereux.” I always felt as if it was a favor, him choosing me to be the one to break her.

Johanna was quickly ushered away to get ready for her departure. Her eyes flashed with disdain. I had no idea that the first time she looked at me with hatred would be the last uncomplicated thing between us.

Judas’ voice snapped me back into the Harrowmere’s foyer and out of the black stone basement where the auctions were held. “Do you plan on attending? I can have a room made up for you? You can have a first look at this year's offerings.”

“I should make my way back.” The faster I left this place, the better.

“You’ll never make it back to Valemor before the sun rises. You act as if I bite.” His humor never amused me like so many others.

“I’ll be fine.” I’d rather face a sunburn than remain in his company.

Judas studied me then, not my face, but my restraint. His golden eyes traced the rigid line of my shoulders, the tension in my jaw.

“You’ve grown impatient,” he observed.

“I’ve grown busy.”

“With what?” he asked smoothly.

“Nothing of importance to you.” The truth of my words settled heavily on my shoulders, but Judas remained oblivious.

“You always rush your departures,” he said conversationally. “As though remaining here costs you something.”

“It does.”

That earned a faint smile. “Your discomfort flatters me.”

“It shouldn’t.”

He laughed softly, “still pretending you are above this.”

“This?” I asked coldly.

“The structure. The necessity.” He gestured vaguely toward the lower levels. “We must be fed. Power must be maintained. If it weren’t for the reapings, what would the world be?” His gaze sharpened. “You of all people understand that.”

I did. That was the problem. “You have your offering from Spring River. I’ll see you next year, Judas.” Turning my back to him, I retreated, eager to leave Harrowmere behind.

But Judas couldn’t let go that easily. With only one single step outside, he called after me, “I’ll see you sooner than that, Roman.” His words made me pause. “Your turn is up. I’ve chosen you to host our fifty year masquerade at Valemor this year.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. Everyone has their day.

Every fifty years we gather. Every coven, every ancient bloodline, gathered to flaunt, to boast. Valemor’s halls would be flooded with silk and blood and secrets.

For a spectacle. For an unforgettable show of power.

“It has been far too long since Valemor opened its doors. Surely you can provide a better party than Matthias.” 

The jab was deliberate. Matthias, the desperate black sheep of the northern coven. At the masquerade he hosted a century ago, he bled three virgins dry at midnight simply to watch Judas applaud.

“I aim to please.” The lie felt sticky, tangling me in a web that I might not be able to escape from. Making promises to Judas shouldn’t be done lightly.

His snide smirk was enough for me to make my retreat back to Valemor. Back to Elodie. I turned toward the waiting dark beyond Harrowmere’s steps, already calculating my next steps.

Every vampire would be under Valemor’s roof. Every predator will be watching. Every ancient nose will be sniffing out weakness.

Keeping her hidden before had been a strategy. Now it would be warfare.

Judas wouldn’t recognize Elodie if he saw her. He never had. He met each reincarnation without the faintest understanding of who she was or what she meant. But that had never made her safe.

With each life, her temper with him grew sharper. Her defiance grew bolder. Especially the last. Odessa. And Judas silenced her easily.

The carriage door closed behind me with a hollow thud.

I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep him from doing the same to Elodie.